If homosexuality is a disease, let's all call in queer to work: "Hello. Can't work today, still queer." ~Robin Tyler

AN: like that quote? I do. Hopefully I can work it in somewhere in the future. AGH! I almost forgot to add an author's note. :D

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Remus and Sirius would be much more prevalent and ehem, less pg rated.

He stood panting in the hallway, exhausted from his run around the school. Looking over his shoulder to ensure he wasn't being followed, Remus turned towards the tapestry on the wall beside him and prodded it with his wand.

"Opheniate". The tapestry became transparent and Remus scurried through, ducking to avoid the low ceiling.

The passageway was dark and damp; it smelled musty and dirty to Remus' sensitive nose. The walls were sharp, cut stone, probably formed by a witch or wizard's spell. Rocks jutted sharply from the walls, uneven and unpolished. Whoever had created this entrance obviously hadn't had sufficient time to carve it properly.

For the umpteenth time Remus wondered who that someone was, and why they had bothered to create such a huge cave in the middle of a castle. Remus kept traveling his well worn path, staggering deeper into the heart of his only solitary sanctuary. He knew he could well have gone to his dorm, or even to the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey was always delighted to see him.

But he wanted to be alone. He didn't want the others to know why he was hiding. Why he was hurt. He knew he could tell them anything, Madame Pomfrey, James, Peter, Sirius. Sirius' name crossing his mind triggered an alarm in his head, reminding him of the reason he was hiding. What he couldn't tell his friends.

Well, they knew of course, and they all loved him. They didn't care if he was gay. He could always trust his friends; his family to love him no matter what.

But not everyone in Hogwarts was as accepting as they were. And that was precisely why he was where he was, alone, sitting in a cave in a tower in the far upper reaches of Hogwarts.

A large group of slytherins had chased him up and down the corridors, insulting him and calling him names. The pursuit had lasted for several floors when the group had started resorting to throwing spells and hurling hexes. Had it been normal hexes and spells he would have been fine. Spending half of his time in the library researching and the other half planning pranks and developing spells with his friends had its perks. Namely a vast knowledge of counter curses.

But these weren't normal students. This group of slytherins called themselves the "death meeters". No, maybe that wasn't it. Whatever, it didn't really matter what they called themselves, either way, it was a cult like group bent on destroying happiness throughout the world. They were a school branch of a worldwide organization lead by some crack pot called Voldemort.

And they were trouble. Rather than casting a standard impedimentia or jelly legs curse like a normal student, these teens were apt to use spells such as sectumsempra, the cruciatus curse, or worse. Which is what brought Remus, finally, tired and bleeding to his secret little hideaway cave.

Nursing his injured ankle, Remus maneuvered around stacks of books and piles of discarded chocolate wrappers. This place had been his refuge since the first week he'd attended Hogwarts, and he'd had four years to make his cave feel like home. The floor was magically carpeted with a soft, plush rug that was almost thick and cushiony enough to sleep on. He had transfigured several small objects into furniture, fashioning himself a makeshift desk, chairs, a cabinet and a long, soft couch. In front of the couch he had spelled a small fireplace and mantel on which he hung his astronomical calendar.

Remus lit a fire in his fire place and sat down on the carpet in front of it to examine his wound. The gash was about six inches long and traced diagonally from his knee to the middle of his shin and bled profusely. He summoned a book from one of the piles around the room and flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Studying the page intently, Remus cast a quick healing charm on his leg before turning around to survey the aesthetic damage done to his cave by his messy entrance.

Noting the blood stains on the carpet and door, Remus beamed scourgify around the room, leaving it much cleaner and more sanitary.

Clean up complete, he walked over to his couch and flopped down hard with a defeated sigh. It was impossible to understand the reason these wizards and witches tormented him so terribly. Well, not impossible exactly. Being a werewolf was socially unacceptable, and had they known he would have been a social pariah. Being gay was a different matter, not as violently dissaproved, but still, apparently, grounds for merciless taunting. Together, he had the equivalent of a social death sentence, but they only knew of the one. So why were they chasing him?

There were other people in the school with different sexual orientations, granted, not many, but enough. And they were never hassled. Of course, they would fight back when provoked, and usually stood up for themselves.

Though adequately learned in self defense, Remus considered himself a pacifist of sorts. Because of his lycanthropy, he felt like any directly violent activity would make him lose the control he strove so hard to keep. Sure, he was fine wrestling with his mates, playing pranks, or participating in sports, but he felt that fighting or any sort of real violence would push him over the edge again. The wolf loved violence and broke through whenever he let his anger or urge to maim over power him. A calm, unaffected demeanor was what kept him sane and human. Losing his temper could result in spilling his secret to the world.

So he couldn't fight back. And he couldn't tell his friends or Madame Pomfrey because though he'd be protected more often, and they would torment him less, those horrible death people would torment him more cruelly. If someone interfered with their teasing, they would go after him in more spite, with worse intent.

Abandoning one last stubborn blood stain on the floor that wouldn't seem to go away, Remus stood and tested his weight on his newly healed leg. Good as new, wouldn't even leave a scar. Bidding his secret room one last fond goodbye, Remus turned and exited through a hidden passageway connected to the library.